


Boyo in a Box. What can he do?

by k0ekienut, SusanShining



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Child Abuse, Dadgene, Eating Disorders, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slavery, Team Awesome (Disney: Tangled), Varian Has Issues (Disney), Which is Which?, boyo is in a box, brogene, it is his home, team awesome is baaaack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29638407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k0ekienut/pseuds/k0ekienut, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanShining/pseuds/SusanShining
Summary: At a very young age, Varian was taken in as an unpaid intern to the Baron, (read: slavery) and as such he got a lotta childhood-lasting trauma issues that have grown on him.One day, the boy's mistress Stalyan is getting married off to a strange man that doesn't seem to like how he's being treated.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Varian
Comments: 33
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Susan: I have no idea how to write summaries, but hope yall enjoy this that Koe and I have written up.

To say Varian hated the isolation would be a half-truth. And it wasn't as if he _liked_ the feeling of the walls of the wooden box surrounding him, but there was a... familiarity to it in a way. Something comforting. The darkness was less harsh on his eyes than the bright sun, and it never got too cold or warm, it was just... there. 

There was also the fact of the matter that being alone had its benefits. He could rest however he wanted, had all the time in the world to imagine what the people outside were doing, with the echoing voices through the wood and the jostling of whatever was moving his containment. 

Then there was the people themselves, the tasks, and the... punishments. They weren't hard! He- he could take them easily! But some part of him _preferred_ the isolation to being outside. Outside meant _people._ And people were _dangerous._

He often felt cramped in the wooden box and it often seemed that he was forgotten. He’d rather be forgotten than beaten or forced to do the hard labor the Baron often made him do for the man himself or for others.

His stomach growled, it had been a while since he’d been given anything at all to eat. If he was able to stand up and walk he’d probably collapse. Falling down was messing up, messing up always led to punishment, they all told him it was the only way he'd learn to stop screwing up all the time. 

His mess-ups are what had taught him that people were just dangerous.

By now he had learned to both recognize and dread the sounds of the footsteps coming towards his box and the padlock being opened. He also never failed to wince when the lid creaked open and sunlight flooded into his sight, blinding his eyes for a moment while a firm hand gripped his arm and yanked him out of his cramped enclosure, causing him to stumble. His vision darkened as the blood rushed out of his head and his legs, as he predicted, immediately gave out. 

Blessedly, they allowed him to collect himself as they explained what he would need to do and why. Something about a party? Otherwise, he didn't care, but big events like banquets and festivals usually allowed him to eat more than usual, so that was something positive to look on.

He didn't say anything as they shoved him over to some tables that needed to be moved. Trying to pick them up would be killer, but he wouldn't dare complain. It was just another job until the next with him. He had stopped the silly dream of there being anything else for him in this world years ago. It would probably just be this until he eventually stopped being useful or stopped moving completely, but if he had any luck that wouldn't be for a long time to come

Although almost his whole life had been difficult Varian still feared a day that he was no longer useful, that he’d be tossed to the side and probably killed for outliving his so called _usefulness._

He tried with everything he had to move all the tables he was assigned to, his body aching from the last time he was put to work. He had messed up that time too and he still hurt from the punishment that was dished out to him, the injuries still not fully healed from lack of food and a lot of other essential things that would help Varian heal. 

He sighed, a small part of him hoped that he wouldn’t actually have to be in the same room as the party that was going to take place later that night, he hated being around all the people. The crowds, the noise, it was all so overwhelming and made him more likely to lose his focus and mess up. 

Messing up at a party was worse than making mistakes with normal tasks.

At one point someone probably realized that he was probably holding things up with how long it took for him to move the table even a couple of inches and he was soon joined by a taller man to carry the furniture over in place. During which the older man tried sparking up a conversation, but was wordlessly denied when Varian refused to take the bait. He wasn't falling for _that_ trick again. 

They eventually finished and it was almost a relief for when they parted ways. The man almost seemed friendly, which never ended up well. It was always out of pity or some sorry sap that was too low-down in the ranks to understand how the world works. Somehow meeting 'nice' people always ended up blaming him for _something_ or other. And the thing was that he couldn't really remember _what_ happened, but it just... was what he _knew_ happened if that made any crazy sense. 

No party planner in their right mind would let him near the food, both for the meal and his own safety. There _were_ times when he would be tasked to test for poisons, but there were too many people at the wedding that an assassin could predict where it could go, and it just wasn't very logical to poison _all_ the food, so instead, he was sent to help others in setting up the archways or chairs. That wouldn't be too bad he supposed. The night was actually going... relatively well compared to most parties where they would get drunk in the first hour and would be again sent into his box once the celebrators started throwing bottles at each other

Varian glanced at the food multiple times throughout the night, trying to ignore the rumbling his stomach was making just at the sight of the food. He kept an eye on the rest of the party moving about and stayed silent awaiting the next thing he was supposed to do that night. 

He was glad there wasn’t a drunk fight, again. They were always a mess to clean up and people that had too much to drink were always so much meaner than they already were. 

His thoughts went back to the man that had helped him with the tables earlier. He... he had been nice. Varian, deep down, had enjoyed the kinder interaction. Encounters like that were rare and them being genuine were even rarer. People were dangerous, as much as he had wanted to try and talk when with the stranger he knew that it was near impossible for someone to actually be kind to him without ending the fake kindness with some sort of repercussion.

To tell the truth it... hurt to think about so he turned his attention to one of his masters that decided that his current state wouldn't be fit for sitting at the table when the party began and sent him off to get washed and changed into some cleaner clothes. That was _very_ unusual. He usually just disappeared when they started the banquet, and let alone sit _with_ them? That was unthinkable.

However, he did as he was told and tried to smolder the growing dread of whatever this lighter treatment would mean as he washed in a some-what distant stream. Thankfully, there weren't any mishaps and he was soon dressed in a black shirt and tan overalls, re-applying the bandages on some of his more recent marks. 

When he returned back to the party, guests had been arriving and the area was more packed, but what really drew his attention was a type of disturbance on the other side of the courtyard. 

Some people parted and he caught a glimpse of one of the people shouting, and when it turned out to be the baron's daughter, curiosity won over caution and he made his way over.

Why the Baron’s daughter was yelling was unknown to him but Varian knew it could be nothing good. Yet, he was still curious to what the commotion was all about. Varian gripped his left arm anxiously, he had always hated shouting especially since it was usually aimed towards him.

Varian didn't try and push through the crowd, that only lead to him getting shoved around in turn, but with his size, it was relatively easy to navigate toward what was happening and get a view about who in the world would be dumb enough to anger Baron's _daughter._ Did they have a death wish or something?

He finally caught sight of who, and to be honest he kinda wasn't surprised to find the man who had helped him earlier trading harsh words with the woman. Even going so far as to insult her selfish personality and capabilities, not that he wouldn't agree, but to be fair, she _was_ a thief after all, but it would _definitely_ end him six feet underground by the end of the week. 

It only further proved his prediction earlier about the man not knowing how things worked around here. He was usually right about those types of things, but it only further served to feed into his desire to get away. Situations like this usually ended up in brawls, and if he was being honest, he'd rather not have to see the man killed. It always gave him a... dangerous feeling when people died. Some sort of mix between fear and sadness he didn't know how to name. 

As he finally turned to go, the familiar figure of the baron shoved through the crowd, not bothering if he knocked over a few people, including Varian, in his haste as he arrived at the shouting match. Then whatever Varian _did_ expect him to do, it _certainly_ wasn't to calmly separate the two adults, not even smacking the man, and moving the pair away with him to the head table, where the chef of the party had finally begun ringing the dinner bell. The other guests began to notice it as well, and Varian had to scramble up to prevent himself from getting trampled. Moving with the crowd he briefly panicked, not knowing where he was allowed to sit.

After a few desperate and terrifying moments, a hand shot out of the crowd and latched onto his wrist, pulling him out of the chaos and shoving him straight into the chair near the front of the courtyard. Varian's body automatically complies with the pulling, to do otherwise was never good, but he immediately regretted it when he saw the bright but tense expression of the man that had begun growing familiar with him. 

He seriously considered risking the punishment of leaving the party when the man not only sat him down, but pulled up a chair _next to him,_ pointedly 'ignoring' the glares sent his way by the baron and his daughter at the head table. Maybe this guy really _did_ have a death wish, but Varian wouldn't be foolish enough to get dragged down with him. 

However, when he pushed his chair back and made the move to stand up, the man's hand once again found his wrist and firmly pulled him back down into the chair. 

Well. Let it never be known that Varian didn't at least try.

Just saying Varian was uncomfortable was putting it lightly, he was never supposed to sit at the table with the party guests. The fact became even worse that the Baron had seen him sitting there next to the guests at the event. Varian had never wanted to run away from a situation more than he did at that very moment, the eyes on him were extremely unnerving and knowing what possible punishments could come in the after fact was terrifying. 

Varian didn't want to get punished when he was just dragged and basically forced to sit next to the strange man. He had no idea _why_ this guy wanted Varian next to him in the first place even when Varian had tried to leave this man still kept him sitting. 

Maybe... Maybe he was supposed to be there at the table? A stupid thought, the looks Varian was getting from the Baron and his daughter was enough to tell him that he should be trying harder to go back to whatever job he was supposed to be doing at that time. The grip on his wrist made trying to leave terrifying, especially after already trying once before. Varian just prayed that he wouldn't get hurt for this.

He could barely think through his racing thoughts, let alone listen to whatever toast was given before people started eating. The man next to him seemed oblivious to his panic, continuing to grip his wrist and squeeze it every so often, the purpose was completely unknown to him and it honestly just made him want to scream. 

The man might've said one or two words, probably trying to get him to eat, but any hunger pains had been chased away the second he was sat down at the table. He would no doubt regret it later, but his situation was bad enough without adding puking in front of everyone to the list. He would never be able to stomach _anything_ with the glares from his masters and the man's hand securely fastened on his arm. 

Then when the man's hand grew tired, or he finally decided that Varian wouldn't run away, the grip was released and Varian could, at last, let out a sigh of relief, finally being able to eat the two small bread rolls that were placed on his plate by a server. He was grateful for at least that. Nothing too large that he would be seen as greedy, and not too little that he would still be filled in _some_ meager way. Nonetheless, he was still thankful for the smallness of his portion so he wouldn't be forced to eat more than he could stomach at the moment.

Varian still very much _wanted_ to run, he shouldn’t have been there at the table. He constantly glances around nervously while nibbling at the bread he was given, it’d probably be the last food he’d be given for a while after this. Varian had no idea if that man was still trying to talk to him or not, he wasn’t paying attention to him, or at least was trying not to. He was afraid if he said anything back it’d seem like he wanted to be there.

He ended up finishing the rolls just as the heavy meats were being dished out. It was normal for the baron to serve the 'healthier' food first, then the more filling and rougher portions later. That would serve to get fiber in at the start so it wouldn't be needed later in the evening. It was the type of logic that originally made sense, and would get the 'health freaks' off his back, so he supposed that was most of the reason. 

You'd think living a life against the law would mean the one _running_ things against the law would be disorderly, scattered up and messy, letting everyone eat however they want, but not the baron. Anyone who chose not to use their fork had their plate promptly removed, leaving the offender to decide to either behave or leave without the free meal offered for them. Unfortunately, Varian's life would probably be forfeit if he stepped another foot out of line- well. it was more like he was _pulled_ out of line- but the baron wouldn't see the difference. It was just another one of his mistakes, be it accidental or no he wasn't going to walk out of here without a few more marks to add to his increasingly growing collection. 

Despite the more and more apparent noose being tied around his neck, he still _tried_ to follow the relatively unspoken dining rules. No slouching, no spitting, no shouting, no hand-feeders, and definitely _no_ insulting the food. The last one of _no denying what you've been given_ was becoming one of the harder ones when the man at his side, upon seeing his plate empty, dished him out a somewhat-large helping of jello. 

Varian had never been one to get mad easily, let alone _show_ it, but for today, he allowed himself one dark look of frustration when the man proudly turned back to his own meal after deciding to burden him with another bread roll. Honestly, was this guy _trying_ to get him killed?

Varian knew that eating the gelatin that the man had given him would make him sick, Varian barely ever ate sugar and when he did- 

Oh storms, he was gonna be sick. 

Varian quickly stood up, this once not noticing the attention it drew to him and the hand that attempted to pull him back to the table, and ran to whatever restroom was nearby. 

What he hadn't noticed was one of his angry masters following behind.

As he hurried out of the courtyard as quickly as possible, he tried to hold everything in along with the crippling anxiety of whatever would be in store for him later. He wouldn't even be surprised if they took a hammer to his wrist or hid his box away from him again. 

He couldn't sugar-coat anything to save his life. It certainly _seemed_ that he had crossed way over into that territory of punishments. Even as much as it made him shudder with phantom pains and memories of desperately trying to keep up with the caravan as a leash jerked at his neck, pulling him along as his lungs burned from the exertion. His box meant _shelter_ and _safety_. Taking it away was practically taking away his right to sleep- not that the two weren't connected to each other of course.

At the thought of having to go through that again, his vision darkened and his stomach heaved once more, causing his legs to buckle. He tried to steady himself on a nearby bench, but only served to smash his head against the marble when his hand slipped. 

Falling to his knees his form trembled, trying to keep everything in as his vision blurred. His head felt light and everything felt as though he had been drenched with a bucket of ice-cold water. His stomach still felt as though it was screaming at him for release, but as he pulled his cupped hand away from his mouth and sucked in deep gulps of air, it oddly felt the tiniest bit better, even with his entire insides feeling like they were being swirled around in a current of anxiety.

Despite his senses being askew due to hitting his head, Varian still heard the sound of someone approaching, the blurry figure getting closer. He wanted to get away, a part of him knew that was stupid, but his thoughts were a mess and he couldn't think straight. Varian tried to move, to hide, to do anything but just lay in pain. Before he could even attempt to stand, to do anything but lay shaking on the ground, a large figure loomed over him and they swung their foot back. 

He couldn't breathe, he felt like he just couldn't inhale enough air, like something was constricting his lungs. Varian couldn't help himself anymore, the small amount of food he had eaten was now on the ground, he had already felt sick but now that feeling was intensified adding the pain of a heavy boot to his stomach on top of it. 

Another kick, and another, Varian tried to say anything to get the person to stop, the words wouldn't form, he could barely even cry out from the pain. He was sure he had heard something crack, he felt like he was going to puke again but had nothing to throw up. 

He had messed up, he had messed up at a party of all things, _messing up at a party was worse than making mistakes with normal tasks._

The foot suddenly collided with his head, sending an explosion of pain rocketing his skull and a splutter of blood filling his mouth as he bit into his mouth to keep from crying out. There wouldn't be any getting out of this. He knew that. It had been drilled into him for years that if he was being punished, it would always be better to just take it and be over with. Protesting would only end in harsher beatings or humiliation. Besides, this was probably better than he could've hoped for. 

And so he stayed as silent as he could, trying to suppress his screams and desperate attempts to escape the endless onslaught of kicks and stomps. His body screamed for relief from the snaps of bones and the constant ringing in his ears. He couldn't even see who it was through his blurry vision and feet with his ribcage. The pain sent black spots and flashes to his eyes, and he almost hoped that he would pass out just to be released from it all. 

But whoever it was made that impossible. Whether it was intentional or not he didn't know, but it seemed as if whenever he would begin to fade off the boot would come down on already broken areas, snapping his eyes open with a shriek and bringing back the adrenalin keeping him awake. It just hurt _so much-_ were they going to kill him like this? Had- had he really done that badly or was this just going to last for hours? He- he didn't know if he could take that. He wanted this all to end _so badly-_

His vision was still extremely blurry and his ears were ringing, the sound felt like a drill into his skull, each breath felt like a struggle, and his stomach just hurt so storming badly. Varian had no idea who was dishing out this punishment, and the fact that he had been hit in the head definitely was not helping with the confusion. 

Were they saying something? They might have been, trying to focus on any sounds felt impossible, it all just made his head feel like it was pounding more than it already was. 

Varian honestly thought that they might just end it there and then, just let him die there outside, alone, until he felt the collar of his shirt being roughly grabbed and himself being dragged. A small part of him wondered where he was being taken, the other part didn't care anymore and just wanted to pass out despite Varian knowing there was a large possibility of not waking up if he did. 

They must've stopped at some point or another because suddenly the grip on his collar tightened, lifting him off the ground. The fabric twisted and he let out a choked gasp, bruised hands coming up reflexively to allow the smallest of relief, but it was short-lived as the hand holding him suddenly let go, dropping him down onto the floor. 

His head hit the familiar walls of his crate and he gasped, relief flooding him even when the cramped area forced him to bend into himself and cause stress on his broken form. Ideally, it would've been better to be able to lay down and allow his ribs relief, but his box meant _safety._ It meant that this hellish day was finally over and he could just be alone. Just him and his box, no masters or strange men, just the comforting darkness of the wooden walls surrounding him like a blanket. 

The lid closed with a soft _thump_ before the familiar _click_ of the padlock locking in place. His form trembled when the box jerked, someone likely picking it up. They shook it roughly once for good measure, smacking his head against the wall again, causing a pathetic whimper to escape him at the sharp pain, but _anything_ was better than being outside. 

He tried to stop his form from being jostled up during the transition, pressing his hands to the sides of the wall and trying to stiffen them, but there was only so much he could do and multiple times he found himself yelping at the injuries being exerted. 

Eventually, his crate was set down in some unknown location with a heavily muffled thud. His breathing picked up when his anxiety was perked at where he might've been taken, but he tried to smolder it down over the fact that there wasn't anything he could do about it. Besides. He had behaved during his punishment, what purpose would it serve to just leave him out somewhere where they would just forget about him? It was probably best if he just tried to get some sleep and rest, it wouldn't do anything good if he wasted time worrying over it.

Everything hurt, and even though he wasn't being kicked anymore it was still hard to breathe, still just too hard to focus on anything. His mind and body begged for sleep, sleep that Varian, at this point, was more than willing to attempt. 

A short bit after being set back down and Varian being on the verge of unconsciousness, he felt something... wet on his hands, actually, most of him felt it. He thought for a moment that maybe it was blood because he was most definitely bleeding, but it wasn't warm. 

Water, he had been put in water. Varian wanted to cry again, the water was a foot deep at most and didn't seem to be rising any higher, he hated this punishment. He was soaked, injured, and freezing. It would be impossible to rest. Varian let out a choked sob, guess he wasn't going to be getting any rest any time soon.

After a while, Varian finally started to feel a cold set in full-force. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was _alone._ He was supposed to be _safe_ from everything in here. 

Shuddering violently, he tried pressing himself further into the corner of the box and curling into himself, the freezing water lapping at his shoulders. It was a pitiful attempt to keep himself warm, he knew that, and it made his broken arm scream at him again, but he didn't really have any other options. 

His teeth started chattering uncontrollably, and he snapped his mouth closed, trying to stop them. Realizing that he probably wouldn't be let out until at least when the party ended, which wouldn't be for hours left, he tried distracting himself with trying to find out where exactly the water was coming from. 

Reluctantly pulling his hands away from his huddled knees, he started to feel around the box. The water hadn't been inside when he first entered, he was sure of that, so there must've been a type of entrance that the water came through. Sure enough, he soon found some of the causes of it. Along with the fact of the wood not being resistant to the water and the loosened nails holding the crate together, the boards that formed the box weren't very water-tight, causing the water to seep through the cracks. 

Another shiver ran up his spine and he wrapped his arms around himself again, trying to stifle his whimpers. It was _freezing._ He couldn't even be glad for the change of clothes that clung to his skin. Some old bandages were getting soaked, stinging his still-healing cuts from prior punishments. The only relief he had was the cold somewhat helped soothe blisters and numb his bruised body, but it was still _cold._

Panic setting in, he sat up and desperately pushed against the lid, cracking it open the tiniest bit. He tilted his head up, trying to peek out the slim opening to the outside, but it was too thin and tight to even know how dark it was. He didn't know what he was trying to look for, maybe he was just trying to do _something_ to get him out of the water. He might have been trying to give his tailbone some relief from sitting on, or perhaps he was just trying to see where he was or get a breath of warmer air, or maybe, as crazy as it might sound, be trying to get _out_ of the box he always found security in. 

There was a time, he remembered faintly, when he feared the isolation his box provided. He remembered pounding and begging to be let out. He had been a young boy then, uneducated about what he would've learned quickly later. It was _always_ better alone. His younger self had feared the darkness, wishing instead for help and comfort instead of rejection and scorn, unknowing that in the life he lived in, things like that were practically nonexistent. 

Back then, he had never been able to get out himself, but maybe with some sick sort of desperation, he still tried. Even now, with every inch of his form screaming for him to stop, he pounded against the mouth of the lid, vision blurring once more as panic and anxiety took over. A cry of hopelessness came out of him as he smashed his already bruised hands against the wood. It was barely budging. 

What happened next he would blame on cold-induced confusion or any type of pathetic self-confidence he had. Ignoring the fact of his already broken legs and the freezing temperatures of the water below, he leaned himself back, closing his eyes as his head entered the water, and kicked with all the violently fleeting strength he had left.

The wood that was trapping him in the darkness and the freezing water came apart at the cost of tripling the pain in Varian's legs. The already sharp pain he had in both his legs felt like it was pulsating, the pain so severe he felt like he couldn't even scream. 

He really hadn't thought this through. 

He couldn't walk, much less run. He did his best to attempt to crawl out of the box he was once trapped in, falling face-first into the freezing water and getting more soaked than he already was. 

Was he going to be spotted? Was he going to be seen attempting escape and get punished more? Just the thought of getting more of a punishment made him shiver harder, not just from the cold. 

Through still-blurry vision, Varian glanced at his surroundings. He had no idea where he even was, from what he was able to see it looked like he was in a fountain. But it appeared to have been abandoned long ago, moss and plants taking over, the freezing water, most likely getting there from the rain, not being exactly clean from being stagnant for so long. 

Was... was this it? Were they planning on just leaving him in an abandoned fountain to freeze to death or die from his many injuries?

 _No, no they wouldn't get rid of me just like that._ a part of him said, but the other part of him shivered at how doubtful and uneasy that made him feel. _Would they?_

Thinking about it made him start to tear up, emotions swirling around in his gut at what he should be thinking- what he should be _doing._ If... if he just sat there, and they really _would_ return, they'd get angry at him for getting out. And he... he couldn't run away. He had _nothing._ No one. He wouldn't survive a minute away from his masters- they gave him food and water and- and if they went looking for him? He- it _terrified_ him to think of what might happen if they caught him. What punishment would they give him then? And he could go back into the box- he- he didn't know what to do! He was such an idiot- he should've just stayed in there and tried to suck it up, but- but he _couldn't_ go back in there! It was so cold and freezing but he couldn't stay _here_ they would just hurt him again he couldn't- 

His thoughts just kept on spiraling and spiraling until the sharp _pain_ of his legs returned and he sucked in a choked gasp, a shuddering sob building up in his throat and his shoulders shook from how utterly overwhelming and _helpless_ he felt. _It had started out such a good day._ He remembered as he pitifully cried into his aching hand, trying again to smolder everything inside even as he fell apart. It seemed as though that always happened to him. That life was perfectly alright with taking any memory he might find happy and crushing it under a bolder.

He tried whipping his eyes, crying always meant more pain, but after a while of trying and failing to dry his soaking face, dripping from his freezing mop of hair, he ultimately gave up and gripped the sides of his hair, despair overwhelming him. This was _stupid._ If he was never going to be happy then what was the storming _point_ of being sad? Was it even an emotion if it just was a constant slap at you every. Single. Moment? 

Then, like everything else, fear and pain were what brought him out of it all. The white-hot shrieking of his legs and the looming threat of being discovered won over the part of him that was practically _begging_ him to let everything out. to just keep crying for just a few more countless hours. That it might actually be _good_ to keep going, but he didn't know when his masters would return- _when-_ not if- he couldn't think about that- and he didn't know when the pain would end, which made running away _double_ off the table, but he couldn't stay there, out in the open and be vulnerable like he wanted to allow himself to be. 

So, fighting through the blinding pain that shot through his legs at moving, he pulled himself through the thigh-deep water, crawling back into his now-overturned crate, and closed the lid behind him, using the pain to distract himself from the suffocating feeling of dread that came with the freezing darkness.

Despite the cold and the cramped darkness that surrounded him, Varian couldn’t stay conscious. He tried so hard but the pain he was in was overwhelming and he was just mentally exhausted, it was shocking he was able to stay conscious for as long as he had. 

He was still freezing and his head was still pounding, it was probably dangerous for him to fall asleep. Despite that, his eyes drifted closed as he shivered from the pain and cold.

He couldn't really tell if he was even alive or not for however long his eyes stayed closed. He couldn't... think. Or feel. He wasn't even numb, he was just... cold. He didn't think he was asleep... because that would mean he didn't feel cold anymore right? And he did... it was cold and everything felt slow... maybe he was just sleepy? But then why couldn't he truly sleep? He just wanted to sleep... 

He suddenly felt the amber ray of a glowing lantern shine in his face, enticing a whimper out of him. _No... go away..._ he tried forcing out as he felt himself being pulled out of the box. The hands grabbed a hold of his ankles and a pathetic shriek escaped him. Surprisingly, the hands released him immediately, dropping them back into the water and he felt a fresh new wave of tears escape him. The person cursed under their breath, and Varian only remembered going limp under the person's careful touch before blacking out. He was just so _tired-_

The next few hours of blinding pain were in and out. He could only tell that there was some sort of now-soaked cloth surrounding him, which he was grateful for, but it did practically nothing to warm him and he continued shivering uncontrollably. Outside of that, there was the constant pain of everything from being jostled around during some sort of movement. Numbly. he realized he was being transported somewhere, and if they were thoughtful enough to actually care about the freezing water still soaked into his trembling form, then they were probably not from the baron or anyone he knew. And for some reason, he was too exhausted to care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn Rider enters the scene.

If the looks at the kid and himself were any indicator, Flynn knew nothing good would happen once the younger boy had run off, looking sick. His concern only grew once the boy never returned after the Baron had followed after him. 

Flynn was no stranger to child abuse and it was extremely obvious life hadn't been a walk in the park for the kid, even having Stalyan basically tell him the fact outright. After a while of remaining at the table, the Baron returned, the smaller boy nowhere to be seen. Now that definitely had caught his attention, even with the marriage part of this celebration about to start, Flynn got up and left. He had a kid to get away from there. 

It took him longer to find the kid than he had hoped, Flynn hadn't expected him to not even be in the Baron's home anymore. He used the skills he had picked up from years of being a thief to track down where the Baron had taken him, fearing he wasn't looking for a young, beaten boy, but a corpse left in the forest to rot. 

He thought for a moment that his fears were confirmed when all he found was a wooden box in an old, water-filled fountain was all he found. Flynn went over to it and opened it, afraid of what he would find inside, and there he was. The younger looked horrid, beat black and blue and shivering like he had never felt warmth in his entire life. The intense shivering was, of course, concerning, but it told Flynn the kid was at least not dead. 

Yet.

Flynn grabbed the boy, trying to pull him out of the crate, he needed to get out of that water and into something dry as soon as possible. But, an unexpected shriek came from the kid, scaring Flynn into dropping him back into the dirty water. _Great, now the kid was even more soaked._ Flynn quickly picked him up again, attempting to be more careful, he didn't know exactly what had happened between the kid running off and the Baron's returning without him, but Flynn knew it was nothing good.

He had stolen a horse to get away from the wedding that now looking back at it, Flynn didn’t really want in the first place. He had quickly wrapped whatever warm thing he had around the young boy and hopped on the horse, the kid still shivering violently. The kid wasn’t making any more noise so Flynn assumed that he probably fully blacked out this time, it was better that way anyhow, he didn't want the younger to be in any more pain than he already was, and riding a horse with injuries never felt good. 

Flynn sighed to himself, he really hoped all this wouldn’t go to waste and the kid would make it, it wasn’t safe to check the injuries that littered the small kid’s body. This boy couldn’t be older than 10-11 years old, how long had he been with the Baron? What had happened that the boy was even afraid to just sit at a table and eat simple foods?

Truly, it didn't matter that he didn't know the kid's name or even if he'd appreciate being taken away. He knew that the only thing that mattered was that this kid wasn't going to get hurt again. Heck, he himself didn't even know why he was doing this. He was _Flynn Rider._ He wasn't a good person. He wasn't even nice, but- maybe- that was _why_ he wanted to help the kid out. 

The world always ends up twisting people in one way or another. For him, it made him a selfish jerk. He won't deny it. Even caused him to cut ties with a lot of people that decided to trust him. But he didn't know how the kid might end up, or even if the kid would survive the night, but Flynn wasn't going to let this kid slip through the cracks so easily. He was a kid, he still had a life of potential ahead of him that didn't deserve to be full of such nightmarish treatment. 

_Not like anything would be better with you._ a part of him whispered. _Can barely even take care of yourself. What would it even be like with a kid?_

Eh, he'd make it work. 

They probably rode for an hour or so, it already pitch-black and Flynn could barely able to see 5 feet in front of them with the dim light of the moon. It was going to be a rough night with the chilly air, but luckily he always planned ahead and had already packed on food and traveling supplies on the horse. Stealing that had been easy, being the man of the party and all, but he hadn't really anticipated the kid that would probably die without them. Nevertheless, he was grateful for it.

Finding a sheltered area proved to be difficult, but once he had found it, it took him only minutes to set everything up for the night, stowing away the valuables and bringing out the camping gear. The toughest challenge he faced was trying to find a place to put the kid. Both trying to make him as comfortable and warm as possible, but things were delayed by the mobility of the kid's form. Frick. It'd probably take weeks for those bones to heal, and even longer if the kid got sick. Dangit. Taking care of this kid was going to be harder than he thought. Go figure. 

Trying to examine the kid without light or sleep was a recipe for disaster, but if the kid woke up when Flynn wasn't there, he didn't know what would happen. It was probably going to end with the kid exerting himself and worsening his condition, so Flynn forced the sleep out of his eyes to securely tie multiple blankets around him, keeping them together with some leather straps he found in the horse's sack. Yeah, it might freak the kid out a bit, but anything to prevent the alternative. 

Afterward, he shortly found himself quietly drifting off with heavy eyelids, a sore back from riding, likely a very dangerous mob boss putting a target at his back, but he couldn't help the small feeling of joy at the kid's labored breathing at his side. At least if now, when he died, he'd have one decision to be proud of.

\----------- 

Varian was burning. It was a familiar feeling, one that he had felt many a time. The question was whether it was welcome or not was off the table, but there was a sort of... _wrongness_ to this heat. Though he did feel the sunlight on his face, it wasn't that. It was something that suffocated him, causing a pitiful whine to come out of him. There was something restricting his movements, pressing down around him as he tried to sleep through the bright- _too bright too warm-_ light that he felt on his face- 

Wait- sunlight? 

He found himself squirming against his restraints, confusion and desperation taking hold. _Too warm too HOT-_

Pain rocketed through his body, stopping his movements immediately as he tried to relax and steady his breathing. Freaking out never got him anywhere and it _certainly_ wasn't going to help him figure out what the frick had happened.

His brain was sluggish through the heat, but he could tell there was something _wet_ covering his eyes. That immediately sparked a memory. Cold, freezing water lapping at him, taking away his strength- where was he now? 

He was laying down somewhere... _not_ in his box- he remembered... someone taking him away? 

Alarm shot through him and he forced his eyes open, shaking his head to dislodge the blindfold. It came off without too much trouble despite the pain returning again, not to mention the sudden blindness the sunlight caused, but it was worth it to be able to _see_ again. 

It looked like he was in some sort of clearing, a small fireplace full of red-hot coals below a tiny pot. Maybe porage? It smelled heavenly, and he whined when he felt the all-to-familiar hunger pains. He felt his mouth start to fill up with hungry saliva and he wished he could cover his nose. The smell only made him hungry, getting hungry was dangerous, but he was denied this from where his arms were strapped to his side with some sort of blanket. _That_ must be where the warmth was coming from. It was too warm he needed to get it _off-_

"Woah! He lives!" a horribly familiar voice sounded as its owner stepped through the bush. "Had me a bit worried there. Not gonna lie, you looked like death. At least now you look like living death!- Uh. Not the best phrasing but ah... at least you're awake?"

Despite the heat, Varian felt cold. It was _him._ It was the same strange man who had sat next to him! It was the same man that got him in trouble- he didn't even know why!It made him want to scream and shout at the man, maybe use some of those 'cursed words' he'd been picking up over the years. The baron was going to kill him anyway, what was one more offense to it all? 

Of course _then_ his nose caught a whiff of whatever was in that pot and self-preservation was basically handed a gun in a sword fight. 

He snapped his mouth closed and he nodded, trying to look smaller than he was, which- to be fair, was a lot harder considering how stupidly small he already was. Yet still, he nodded and tried shifting into a more comfortable position in his wrap. Which was.. hard with his entire body feeling like a burning log that came out of a swamp. 

"Ah... right. You're gonna have to stay in that until it's safe to move you, so try not to loosen the straps, it'll probably be better if you don't strain yourself-" his eyes seemed to catch Varian's hungry look at the bowl simmering at the fire. "-oh! Right... you're probably starving- uh- thing is I don't really have that much in there-" his voice stopped as Varian's head nodded and turned away, visibly disappointed. "-but you can have it! I ate last night anyway..."

Varian pressed his lips together and did his best to scoot as far as he could into the tree as the man used his gloved hand to scoop up the pot and step over to his position. He didn't know why it freaked him out so much. He wasn't at a table, this guy didn't seem... angry. And it was food, so he should be jumping at the chance to get it right? 

He must've blacked out for a second because suddenly the man was there, holding out the bowl at Varian like it was some sort of... rock? It was hard to think straight... Why was it so _hot?_

"Common kid I'm not gonna-" the man's eyes fell on Varian's tightly wrapped form. "Ah... right. Alright, open up. I'm not going to let you starve on me here."

He was so hungry but a part of Varian had no trust for the stranger, he had no idea who this man was except that he was the reason Varian had gotten into trouble in the first place. His stomach growled, snapping his attention back to the man, Varian had hoped that maybe the stranger would unwrap his arms so he could at least eat by himself, not trusting the other to feed him. There would probably be some sort of price to pay for eating this man's food anyway. 

"Come on kid, it won't hurt you. You gotta eat to heal quicker anyway." 

It won't hurt him? How did Varian know that it wouldn't, he had no reason to trust this stranger, why did this guy want him to heal anyway? Who was this person and where were they...

His thoughts dragged to a halt as a headache flared in his mind, a groan slipping out of him at the pain. The stranger frowned at this and pushed the spoon forward. When had he gotten that-? 

He whimpered and pulled his head back as the spoon pushed against his lips. He- he didn't _want_ to eat! He was fine! The ever-persistent rumbling in his stomach might prove otherwise, but his stubbornness won over and he found his head shaking weakly, practically pleading the man to stay away. 

But the stranger only let out a long-suffering sigh as Varian continued to resist it, leaning back when he realized that this wasn't working. "Alright, new strategy. You can call me Flynn Rider, greatest thief of all time, and you are...?" 

Varian felt a snap of panic and snapped his mouth shut, dropping the man's gaze. But he must've misinterpreted it somehow and let out another sigh, expression turning a bit sheepish. 

"Right... uh- so I get you don't trust me, but I'm not going to take your wrappings off because you already have enough damage done to you and-" the back of his hand came forward suddenly, its cold skin jolting Varian to the present as he squirmed underneath the contact. It didn't seem to bother the older male though as after a couple of seconds of feeling, his frown deepened and he picked up the discarded cloth from the ground and started to dab the soaked felt on his forehead.

"-Fever's gonna get worse, so it'll be best if you stay in there until things start healing up." the man's voice entered Varian's ears and the boy winced at the sound. It was too bright here. It was too hot, too warm. It'll all be better if he was in his box. Everything was better in his box- 

His thoughts screeched to a halt as a small realization dawned on him. 

_He wasn't going to go back, was he?_

"-so then we might hide out in this cabin over there and- kid? You alright?" the man looked almost as panicked as Varian felt when the boy's breathing picked up, eyes going glassy as the growing pit in his stomach expanded. It was almost _hurting_ him with how jumbled up everything was. He couldn't tell _what_ he was feeling. Was he angry? Sad? Relieved? But- he couldn't be relieved. That was his _home_ this stranger had taken him from. He didn't even get to say goodbye! Why- why would he- 

_Another kick, and another, if hurt so bad why were they hurting him he hadn't meant to mess up-_

His vision blurred. He was sick. Sick sick sick- he shouldn't be feeling relieved. He _shouldn't._ They had given him a home. They had kept him alive! Why couldn't he have just been better? Why couldn't _they_ have just been better? If they had been better, then he wouldn't be feeling like this. If _he_ had been better- if he had just- 

"Kid!" a desperate snap broke through the ringing in his ears and his breathing almost choked him as it tried to steady out. Then suddenly his hands were brought up to his head, furiously working to scrub the stinging tear tracks on his cheeks. Numbly, he realized his wrappings had been loosened enough to free his arms, but he couldn't care anymore. The world was going to end him any second now. He didn't have the _time_ to care. He needed to pull himself together already and _make_ himself commit. Whether he liked it or not, that life was over. He might as well _try_ to seem useful with this new master and not like an ungrateful _child._ He couldn't afford to hold grudges about people. If they wanted him to trust them, then that's what he would do. 

"Ok... you look better now so... want to try eating again?" the man- no, he wanted Varian to call him 'Flynn Rider.' He needed to remember that.

Hoping that he had pulled himself together as best as he could, Varian nodded and reached for the bowl, only for Flynn's hand to snap over his wrist before he could touch it. 

"Woah! Careful. That's been on the fire kid- here, put these on." Flynn chided him as the boy's form went rigged. Yet Varian still forced himself to cooperate as the man slipped off his own gloves and pushed them over Varian's hands. "Careful with these though, they're my only pair- but I'm sure I can get another don't worry!" he tried assuring the kid as Varian stared at the overly-large pair. They almost slipped off his bony hands before Flynn pushed them further past the boy's thin wrists. 

"Alright... so you go ahead and eat, and I'll go look if there's anything else for us around here," Flynn noted as he stood up. "Don't- er- don't run away alright? I'll be right back."

It was strange to have something covering his hands, it was almost... comforting. Having more of himself covered just felt right in his mind. Flynn walked away after telling him to not run off, even if he wanted to Varian wouldn't, he had no idea where to go or even the faintest idea of where he was. 

He turned his thoughts back to the food he was given, how was he going to repay Flynn for the food or how was Flynn going to make Varian pay for the food. It didn't matter, either way, he was with this "Flynn Rider'' now, who was probably going to be a new master. What else would this man want with him for anyway? Everyone he's ever been near always had a reason for Varian to be there, there was always a purpose. 

Varian stiffly took a small bite of whatever food was in the bowl, it was strange being given more food so soon after he had just been given something just the other night. To be given something that wasn't just the leftover scraps. And it actually... it actually tasted pretty good, he took a few more bites. Varian felt so hungry yet like he couldn't eat anymore, his stomach not used to getting a decent meal so often.

Yet he still decided that it'd be best if he forced himself to continue eating until the bowl was empty. Flynn... wanted him to eat, so if he didn't he'll probably regret it later on- not that he was complaining of course. Despite the fact that almost everywhere below his shoulders hurt like heck, it was somewhat... peaceful eating a nice meal in the quiet grove. 

He immediately felt a frown form on his face. No... this was too peaceful. What was going _on?_

He glanced around the campsite, eyeing the horse munching on the grass a few feet away from him. _Friesian._ That was quite a steal for the horses in the area. Light, nimble, fast. From what he'd heard, they were great for competitions, but he couldn't really be sure. If a horse was supposed to be the best, wouldn't they be looking for stronger ones like Clydesdales? Strong and hardworking ones. They were the most useful right? Then why would the faster ones be rewarded when the toughest were treated like dirt? It didn't make any sense if you asked him. 

_Remember your place kid. Save the smarts for people- well- smarter than you._

Varian instantly felt a hot rush of shame and embarrassment. He wasn't supposed to think about that. It wasn't his place to learn about horses. He hadn't even been told those things. He wasn't supposed to know about _anything_ but noooo- he _had_ to listen in.

Turning away from the beast, he tried looking at the rest of Flynn Rider's things before immediately turning his gaze down. No. He wasn't going to get any ideas or give this new person any ideas in turn. He was going to be obedient and he was going to be _good_ at it this time. 

He racked his brain for anything the man had told him to do during their conversation. He had been told to eat and... it was hard to think. Why was it so hard to _think-_ He wasn't- he wasn't stupid! Then why was their _pain?_

His brain throbbed at him, a now constant pounding that he found unable to ignore now that he didn't have anything else to focus on. He soon found his hands coming up to rub circles around his temples. It barely offered any relief, and his forehead was warm to the touch, but storm it- his head _hurt._

Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach, wrapping his cloth around him in a feeble attempt to block the stupid light of the sun. As if stopping the stupid rays would do any difference against his headache or the heat. He was still in the sun. It was still _warm-_ He needed shade. It was too warm. It was too hot too _much-_

He whimpered as he forced his arms to push his form into the shade. Flynn... Flynn had said not to go anywhere. He'd... he'd said not to move, and this was going to make him angry but it was too _warm-_ He could barely breathe through the stuffy air and he'd _gladly_ accept any punishment if it meant lessening the heat even the smallest bit. 

So it was then when he found his arms dragging his overheating form into the cool shadow of the trees. The part of him still inside the blanket wrap was burning, but it was... nice to feel the soft air tickling his face.

Although he had said to himself that he'd gladly accept any punishment for moving from the spot he was told to stay in, a tiny part of him still hoped that maybe... just maybe he wouldn't get punished? He hadn't moved that far so maybe it was okay, just this once? As much as Varian wanted to keep such thoughts in his head, he knew it was stupid, there was no room in his mind for his own hopes. 

Varian took a deep breath, it was nice to be outside, even better now that he was in the shade. But at the same time he hated it, everything was just so- open. It felt like anything could sneak up on him, anything could happen around him and Varian wouldn't know till it was too late because there was just too much openness surrounding him. Not knowing where Flynn had gone made it worse, the man could appear and hurt him and Varian wouldn't even see him coming and have time to prepare for whatever punishment the man had planned for him. 

Maybe... it was not the smartest thing to do but it helped. Varian closed his eyes, darkness surrounding him like he was alone and in his small space again. The fabric he had tried so hard to remove before was actually helping him now that he was in the shade. The fabric gave him the feeling of being covered, therefore protected. 

Even if his head still was pounding and his ached everywhere, it was nice to just have this one this, even if it was just for a moment while his new master had left to where he had gone to.

He must've passed out after that, because the next thing he woke up to was a frustrated voice angrily shouting at something, and not a second later Varian was sluggishly sitting himself up and looking around at what was going on. 

Flynn was at the other side of the clearing, kicking some fuzzy creature into a bush, away from a large brown bag. Apple cores were spilled around the grass like scattered chess pieces. Varian felt a cold sense of dread at how bad this could be. Was that his fault? Should he have been watching for food thieves while Flynn was gone? 

His master lifted his head and caught Varian's eye like a deer staring into a lantern, and Varian's gaze dropped instantly, sitting back up against the tree. It was later in the day and he could see the sun setting over the horizon... had Flynn been gone all day? 

"Dang, did I wake you kid? Sorry the uh- the raccoon got into our rations and... you hungry? I made us a cobbler so... not sure if it's really good but you slept in all day so you might need something?" the man scratched the back of his head. "Sorry,s I'm a little new to... this." 

Varian blinked, confused as he pursed his lips tighter, feeling uncomfortable. Whatever 'this' was... it _clearly_ wasn't normal. 

Yet Flynn still went on, oblivious to Varian's spiraling thoughts. "Anyways it should be done in a few minutes and you're not looking like shi- crap anymore so... feeling up for a little chat? I mean if we're going to stick together now we should at least know the basics about each other, right?" he shrugged, picking up a canteen of water as he stepped past the fireplace to sit cross-legged a few feet from Varian's form. "So... this is the part where you tell me your name, kid, so what is it? Mike? Soron? You kinda feel like a Joel to me... so what is it?"

Varian tensed, not looking up from the ground as his voice struggled to work. "I-" his voice broke off with a dry cough and he closed his mouth, turning away in defeat before Flynn tossed the skin of water at him, slapping him in the face briefly before Varian hastened to follow the wordless instruction, yet inside his mind was racing. Flynn was... asking for his name, so what did he really want Varian to say? What would be best for _him_ to say?

Making his decision, he popped open the lid and dribbled a few precious sips of the ice-cold liquid before swallowing and trying again. "Don't really... have one sir."

“You… don’t have a name.” Flynn deadpanned, looking at the kid in front of him. 

Varian ducked his head. He wished he could curl himself into a ball, if not for how much pain that would cause him. It wasn’t a lie… not entirely. He _didn’t_ have a name- not one that people gave him anyways. But it still wasn’t entirely _true_ either. So whatever happened next… might not end well.

“N-no sir- I- I was never given one?” Varian paused, he told himself he would try harder to not mess up this time but it was already too late for that, he called Flynn the wrong thing again even though the man specifically told him to call him Flynn Rider. 

Flynn blinked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Well… uh- I guess we’re going to have to get you one now, so… I guess I’ll call you ‘kid’ until then, alright?” he told Varian, who nodded hesitantly as he turned back to the fireplace and poked the pot with a stick. “Seems done… mine always ends up being burnt on the bottom, but you can’t be perfect at _everything_ , right?”

Varian nodded, still staying in his spot as Flynn dished out the cobbler onto small plates, handing one to him and sitting back down. After waiting for an affirmative nod from the man, Varian took his fork and dipped it into the dish, doing a pretty decent job at eating until his headache returned, almost pushing away the warm food until thinking better of it.

Varian set his fork down, clutching his swirling stomach. He _really_ didn’t like getting sick.

When Flynn noticed the boy’s discomfort, his eyes widened and he took Varian’s plate, setting the food to the side as he came forward. “Kid? What’s wrong? Did something happen or-” he stopped when Varian shook his head violently, yet still took Varian’s gloved hand, pulling it away from the kid’s stomach and pushing the boy back against the tree, opening out the boy’s lungs.

When Varian was finally able to breathe better, allowing his stomach to calm down, Flynn finally stepped back, becoming a bit relieved at Varian’s expression relaxing.

“Better? Good. Good…” Flynn bit his lip, feeling way too out of his depth for this. “Can you… not eat? Is that a problem for you?”

The boy looked down, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t seem much of a talker, that’s for sure, but if the kid wouldn’t tell him what was going on, how the heck was he supposed to help?

“Oh… well. If that’s it then it’s fine, just ah… what do you want to eat?”

The boy blinked in shock, looking at him like he was crazy. Yet it disappeared as quickly as it came and the boy ducked his head, staring at his knees. “I…I think apples are nice sir- erm- Flynn Rider.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow, smirking lightly. “Try not to trip over your tongue there kid, call me whatever you’d like. I assure you whatever you chose is probably not the worst thing others have referred to me as.”

Yet despite his light-hearted tone, the boy visibly flinched, curling into himself. “O-of course sir.”

Flynn’s eyes squinted in concern, yet nodded along, deciding that it was the best he could do. “Right then. I’ll get you some apples. Do you prefer green or- wait. Yeah... after that thief took the burden of relieving us from all the red ones, all we _do_ have is green, so I guess you don’t have a choice on the matter.”

The boy nodded obediently as he stood up, striding away to snatch up the sack of remaining fruit. “What’s wrong with green apples anyway? What- can raccoons even tell the difference between them?” the boy nodded when Flynn looked expectantly at him. “Huh.”

“They… they’re actually really smart.” the kid told him hesitantly, but since Flynn didn’t explicitly have to ask him to talk, he’d count that as a win.

“Really?” Flynn smirked. “I bet they have to be- thieves of the animal kingdom and all that.”

“Yeah…” the boy bit his lip, looking anxious. “They can solve puzzles really fast- um, they can pick locks too. Sir Bruiser locked his biscuits in his box and he found them munching on them a few hours later. He… he got really mad. Started yelling.” 

Flynn chuckled at the thought of that grumpy man getting stolen from by a bunch of raccoons, now that would be something entertaining to witness. “Well kid, you taught me something new I guess.”

His eyes lit up slightly, tapping his fingers together. “T- thank you, sir.”

Flynn’s smile fell into a look of concern, he didn’t think that was a compliment, but he let it slide and stepped over to the kid, tossing him an apple and dumping the sack down as he sat.

They ate in silence despite the occasional crunch of the apple, but all in all, since the kid appeared to be doing better, he couldn’t really complain.

A yelp startled him out of his stupor sending his gaze jerking up to stop a grey rodent standing on the boy’s head, bristling as it reached for the apple in the kid’s hand.

When the boy noticed Flynn’s gaze on them, he froze, tossing the apple away and using two hands to try and pull the critter out of his hair. The raccoon saw the apple get tossed away and tried to leap after it only to realize that its paws were tangled in the boy’s hair. Now both of them were panicking, one trying to get the small animal out of his hair and the other just wanting to escape for that apple. Flynn watched the struggle while trying to hold back his laughter and trying to decide whether or not he needed to help the kid out. Eventually, he got up to help the two, they both seemed to just be making the situation worse the longer he didn’t intervene.   
  
“Kid, just- just let me-” he attempted, grabbing a hold of the rodent’s lower half and pulling. Gratefully, the raccoon finally came free of the tangled mess and began snarling, squirming in the man’s hand as the kid below massaged his scalp. “You alright?”

He nodded, taking his hand away and looking at a small patch of blood, frowning before wiping it off on the tree behind him. At Flynn’s eyebrow raise of concern, he added. “Just a few marks, fine.”

Flynn frowned but didn’t comment, letting go of the snarling critter in his hands and letting it crash down on the dirt and scamper away, snatching the apple in its jaws as it went.

After ensuring that the raccoon had left, Flynn squatted down, reaching out to finger the kid’s hair. It was knotty. The greatest crime he had ever allowed his look to commit.

“Yeah- no that won’t do,” Flynn noted, turning over and reaching into his pack. “We gotta clean you up here kid! A thief’s look is the only honor he has!” he pulled out a blue hairbrush, patting his lap to beckon the kid forward. “C'mere kid, for I, Flynn Rider, shall tame this foul beast and rid the land of tangled knots! No raccoon would dare get stuck in it ever again!”   
  
Varian gave Flynn a wary look, not completely sure if he should trust the man quite yet. He had saved him from that racoon that was stuck in his hair a moment ago though… Varian also didn’t want to disobey, fearful of ending Flynn’s, so far, nice act. He scooted over and sat by where Flynn had motioned for him to sit, trying not to cry out at the shooting pain the movement caused him. Varian didn’t remember the last time he or anyone else tried to do anything with his hair so he hoped it wouldn’t hurt...   
  
_Yank_

Varian’s head jerked back, pulled by the brush stuck in a knot as Flynn’s eyes widened, taking the brush out and studying the raven nest before him.

“...Huh. Well this is gonna be tougher than I thought-” he paused, eyecatching a splotch of dry blood. “-But it’s going to be fine, alright! Just a little more effort!” He reached into his bag again, pulling out a pair of scissors this time. “How about a little cut, huh kid? Or a little wash by the stream...” He stopped, remembering that moving the kid was still not the best idea, and reached for their canteen of water, opening it up. “So are you thinking short or bald because I think you’d rock both if I’m being honest.”

“Umm…” the kid hesitated, sounding confused. “What- whatever you want, sir.”

“‘Kay! Short it is!” Flynn nodded, reaching forward with the shears and snipping out a large chunk of it, the strands falling to the dirt and allowing him to come forward with the brush. It went through easier, creating a sort of rhythm to his work. Snip, brush, snip, brush- it was quite relaxing really.

Occasionally, Flynn would come across a bloody area, to which he would ‘treat’ with the water from the canteen, attempting to wash away the stain, which was… a concerning amount of it.

“Wow… you really got it beaten out of you, huh kid?” Flynn mumbled when he had cut away enough hair to peer onto the multiple wounds shown on the scalp. Most of them were old, long dried out, but the bruises were what he was more concerned about. By the looks of it the kid must have 8 concussions at _least_.

The kid shifted, seeming uncomfortable. “Was… was that a question, sir?”

Flynn hummed in consideration as he worked. “Well, not really I guess. It’s one of those ‘rhetorical questions’ I think. Not really sure how they work, but you don’t have to answer anything if you don’t want to. Whatever floats your boat. You feel me?”

“I… don’t really know how to answer that one, sir.”

Flynn laughed, going back to snipping at the kid’s hair. “Don’t worry about it kid. You’re cute.”

“Erm- thank you, sir?”  
  
Flynn comed a hand through the kid’s hair. It was a good length shorter than it had been originally, and way easier to brush through, which he did for a couple minutes. Then, after a few more hand-washes with the water from the canteen his expert senses had finally deemed it fit. 

“Looks good!” he noted, pulling out a hand mirror and holding it before the kid. “What do you think, kid?”

The boy hesitated, reaching for it and glancing at his reflection, fingering the remaining tufts of black hair. “It… it’s good. Thank you, sir.”

“M’kay then,” Flynn stood up and patted the boy’s shoulder, pulling him back towards the tree and practically dragging him into the shade. “You get some more rest and I’ll get to work planning our next move.”

The boy didn’t complain and slumped himself down in the shadow of the tree, pulling his blanket around him. It was muddy and the kid looked like he’d been working in a tanning shop for three days straight. He’d definitely need a proper wash later, but not now.

Yet he knelt down at the boy’s level, holding the back of his palm against the kid’s head. It was still warm, a sickness like that wouldn’t disappear overnight, but it was better than yesterday.

“You feeling alright? Sores still acting up?”

The boy frowned and turned his head away from the man’s palm. “I‘s fine.”

Flynn frowned, guiltily putting as much of a commanding voice into his next words. “What part hurts the most? Could you tell me that?”

The boy bit his lip, curling further into his blanket yet wincing at the movement. “Ummm… my legs, sir?”

“Alright then. Anywhere else?”

The boy shifted, blanketed arm coming to clutch his rib-section. “My… my chest?” he winced, biting harder on his lips before reaching for his forehead. “And... it’s warm?”

Flynn nodded, bringing out the canteen again and using it to wet his handkerchief before folding it. “‘Kay, so you wanna stay in the shade and not clench up your body like that. Try and stretch it out alright? Like that, good, now close your eyes and I’m gonna put this over your eyes to keep you cool. Tell me if you need anything else, ‘kay kid?”

The boy shifted, looking up from his spot on the ground with confusion, studying him for a while. It was as if he was looking for something and after a moment found it, humming in affirmation before closing his eyes, allowing for Flynn to place the soaked rag on top of his forehead.

And then, just like that, despite the terrible cuts and bruises littering the kid’s body, despite the messy cut of his raven hair and the still-dirty cloth covering his tiny form, the kid looked content. And that was what made Flynn Rider smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Koe: Totally spaced mentioning this, but this is pre-movie. So Varian is around 12 years old and Eugene is still Flynn Rider!


End file.
